


When the (Gingerbread) Walls Came Tumbling Down

by Ally147



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, everlark christmas gifts, mentions of previous Peeta/Madge, single mum katniss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-28 15:38:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13274556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ally147/pseuds/Ally147
Summary: The festive season is battering Katniss every which way with some very welcome realisations...





	1. Days 3 and 4: Gingerbread/Snowflakes

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written as a one-shot for Everlark Christmas Gifts (Days 3 and 4) on Tumblr. Completely unintentionally, it grew into five chapters that may or may not make a whole lot of sense. I've tried to make it a fun bit of fluff, but I fear things got a bit serious somewhere in the middle...
> 
> I've tweaked things a little from what was posted on Tumblr, but nothing too major; just fixing up some typos and filling other bits in. I'll try to post the remaining chapters fairly quickly, but I'll be doing some further edits on all of them, so hopefully the whole story will be up tomorrow.

“It’s sacrilegious!”

 

Katniss shakes the snow from her heavy winter coat and hangs it on the hook by her door. She groans; they’ve been deadlocked in the same argument since they left the supermarket. Although, maybe they’ve been having it since middle-school, when Katniss first brought a defrosted, prepacked Sara Lee muffin for lunch. Peeta barely spoke to her the rest of the day, but he brought in a whole tray of homemade chocolate muffins for her the next and all seemed forgiven. “It’s fine!”

 

“Not when it’s my goddaughter, it’s not.” Peeta barges past her, snatches her shopping bag, and stomps his way into her kitchen. The following rattling thump tells her he tossed it in the bin. She sighs and listens as he throws open her cupboards and rifles around her spice shelf. “I know you have all the ingredients. I keep you stocked.”

 

“Because you’re the only one who uses them.” She sighs again and follows the clatter of sound. “Ava likes the pre-packed gingerbread houses, Peeta. It’s fine.”

 

“Only because she doesn’t know any better.”

 

“She’s three, Peeta. She hasn’t had many chances to learn.” And besides, this is the first Christmas since Ava was born that Peeta will even be spending with them. Every other, he spent with _Madge_ and _her_ family, baking gingerbread houses for _her_ nieces and nephews.

 

But Katniss isn’t bitter. Not anymore, at least. Not now that Madge has been out of the picture for the past four months for reasons that Peeta refuses to explain.

 

Peeta peeks out from behind her pantry door and points at her with a jar of cloves. His nose is still bright red from the cold, but is there something else clouding his eyes other than challenge? Regret, maybe? Sadness? Guilt? But it’s gone before she can blink.

 

“All the more reason to hook her in early.”

 

Katniss sighs and sets herself down on one of her kitchen stools. She should know better by now than to get in the way of Peeta on one of his crusades against mass-produced baked goods, armed with just his own handmade equivalents as weapons. It’s not as though he’s going to lose. And besides, there’s not much else she enjoys more than the sight of her best friend’s ass, poured into his favourite pair of jeans, as he works, or the look of such dedicated concentration to every movement he makes in the kitchen; it makes her think of the dedication he’d show in… other areas…

 

 _No_. She shakes her head of the idea. Her thoughts about her best friend have never gotten her anywhere, and count for even less now that she’s a single mother to a little girl who thinks her Uncle Peeta is just about the best thing ever (taking after her mother in ways Katniss never expected). Those thoughts are ones she can’t afford anymore.

 

So why won’t they go away? Why is every dream she has at night filled to the brim with _Peeta, Peeta, Peeta_? Why do they keep growing, expanding, into something she’s not sure she has room in her head and heart for? Whenever she’s around him, and even when she’s not, she’s sure she’s about to burst from the pressure of all those thoughts and feelings wending away inside her.

 

She watches Peeta putter about her kitchen as though it’s his own. And in all fairness, it just might be. Every appliance she owns is just another in a long line of well-meant gifts from Peeta that only he uses. She just sits there and reaps the delicious benefits. She’s not sure where she’d be without his easy, uncomplicated friendship. God only knows what he gets from her, though. She thought she’d lost him for good the night he told her he’d started dating Madge. She thinks that night might have been the one when Ava was conceived, when she was lost and blinded by a grief she hardly understood at the time, consoled by a warm body at a bar, and later in a hotel bed.

 

“Katniss?” She glances up, finds him at her side, his hand gentle and warm on her shoulder. There’s that same, indefinable little flicker in his eyes, a softness she sees daily, but with something… else. She blinks, and it’s gone again. Why does she only notice these things when it’s too late?

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Katniss sits up, forces a smile to her lips. “Nothing,” she says. “Just… I love you, Peeta. You know that, right?”

 

His eyes widen, and she sees it this time, forces herself to focus on it, this concerto playing out inside him: the flicker of pure, undiluted joy that grows and swells, that falls almost as quick into something like disappointment for just a fraction of a second before the warm light comes back.

 

“I love you, too, Katniss,” he says, pressing a kiss to her temple before striding back to the kitchen. “Always.”

 

“Always,” she mutters back, but now she’s more confused than ever.

 

“Hey, you want me to pick up Ava from kindy today?” he asks as he mixes up the batch of dough with her only wooden spoon. “Give you the chance to hide her presents?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Sure. If you don’t mind.”

 

“Not at all. I’ll take her to visit Dad at the bakery, too. So you’ve got some extra time. She loves him anyway; he always slips her cookies when he thinks I’m not looking.”

 

“Uh, okay.”

 

“Something the matter, Katniss? You’re being more awkward and monosyllabic than usual.”

 

He’s smiling at her, though. Enough to take the sting out of his words.

 

“No. I think… I think I just realised something.”

 

He stops stirring, stares at her with that same odd look. What the hell does it mean? Is it… could it…

 

“Yeah?” He starts up again. “Something important?”

 

“Yeah, um… maybe. I’m… can I leave you here for a minute? I just need the… bathroom.”

 

He shoots her a quizzical sort of smile, and waves her off. “I’m sure I can manage things here on my own for a few minutes.”

 

She bolts away and down the hall without another word, wrenching open the bathroom door and slamming it closed behind her. She falls against the counter, knocking over a bottle of Ava’s favourite no-tangle, strawberry-scented shampoo. She feels like she might explode. When she glances in the mirror, though, she doesn’t look any different. She thought it might be written all over her face, the utter ineptitude of her thoughts and feelings.

 

For good measure, though, she splashes her face with ice-cold water. Just in case.

 

When she comes back to the kitchen, Peeta’s rolling the dough out in a thin sheet across her counter, his brow furrowed in concentration. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, but this time — with Peeta silhouetted against the snow beyond the window, making a gingerbread house for her daughter, in that ridiculous reindeer-printed sweater that makes his eyes bluer than ever — the force of it all hits her hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs.

 

She’s in love with her best friend. She thinks she might have been in love with him for… always.

 

He looks up, smiles at her, and there’s no way she’s missing the look in his eyes now.

 

She thinks he might just be in love with her, too.


	2. Day 11: Ribbons and Bows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 11: 'Ribbons and Bows'

_“She’s incredible, Katniss,” Peeta whispers in awe, but he’s not looking at her. He’s holding her newborn daughter, bundled up in a soft pink blanket and huddled against his broad chest. He’s staring down at her like she’s the most miraculous thing in the world. Katniss can’t blame him. She’s pretty sure her daughter is the most miraculous thing in the world, too. “She’s absolutely beautiful.”_

_Katniss yawns, snuggles back against the pillows and watches them with a smile. “She is, isn’t she?”_

_“Have you picked out a name for her yet?”_

_She lets out a breath. She never discussed the names she was considering with anyone; everyone was too busy chipping in their own ideas to listen to any of hers anyway. “Ava, I think. Ava Rose.”_

_“Ava Rose Everdeen.” He tests it out and grins. “I like it.” He finally looks up at her and smiles. “Congratulations again, Katniss. You were… you were brilliant.”_

_She smiles back, and she’s convinced she’s never smiled so widely, so genuinely in all her life._

_“Thank you.” She balls up her itchy, white hospital blanket in her fist. “Won’t Madge be missing you by now?” At a little over eight hours, her labour was mercifully short compared to the thirty-hour horror story her mother relayed, but Peeta’s been by her side for every screaming, sweaty, finger-breaking moment of it. Nearly four hours after the fact now, and he still hasn’t left her side. She’s not sure she wants him to._

_“Don’t worry about Madge,” he says with a wave of his hand, careful not to jostle the baby. “She knows where to find me.”_

_She tugs a thread from the blanket loose. “She won’t be mad?”_

_“That I’m with my best friend who just went through one of the most difficult things a human being could ever go through?” He shoots her a wry smile. “No, she won’t be mad.”_

_Katniss isn’t convinced; she’s not sure she’d be so understanding if her nebulous, non-existent boyfriend disappeared in the middle of the night to attend to a woman giving birth to a child that isn’t even his._

_“Can I ask you something, Peeta? Something important.”_

_“Anything, Katniss,” he whispers. “You can ask me anything at all.”_

_“I’ll remember that,” she teases. “I could probably get you to do anything so long as you’re holding my child.”_

_Something almost bitter flashes across his face, gone as soon as it appeared. “Probably,” he says. “What did you want to ask?”_

_“Would you be Ava’s godfather?”_

_Peeta freezes. Ava lets out a disgruntled little coo, and Peeta starts to rock her again. “You want me to be her godfather?”_

_“Well, yeah. Who else would I ask?”_

_Now he glances up at her, his eyes bright with tears and earnestness. “I don’t know,” he says teasingly. “Finn was gunning pretty hard for the role.”_

_“Finn’s not my favourite person. You are. Well” — she nods towards her sleeping daughter — “second favourite now, I suppose. But there’s no one else on this planet I’d trust more with my child than you.”_

_Peeta stares at her, disbelief written all over his face. He leans forward, gently deposits the baby back in Katniss’ arms, and brushes her stringy, sticky fringe away from her forehead. Before she can blink, he’s setting his hand against the back of her neck, gently pulling her forward, and pressing his lips to hers, firm, dry and warm. Katniss stills, and closes her eyes; he’s never kissed her like this before. There’s no heat behind it, just years of affection spilling out into the gesture, but it just might be the best kiss she’s ever had._

_He pulls back just enough to press another kiss to her forehead and whisper there, “I’d be honoured to be Ava’s godfather, Katniss.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_He kisses her forehead again and draws her in for a small hug. “Yeah.”_

* * *

All of Ava’s presents are wrapped in silly paper covered in cartoon reindeer. Some are topped with huge, star-shaped bows, and others tied up with shining silver ribbons that tumble over the glossy present mountain like a waterfall. The corners aren’t as neat as Peeta’s, who wraps his gifts with sharp hospital corners and all, but it doesn’t matter. They still look lovely sitting under her modest tree — now her home looks ready for the holidays. But Katniss doesn’t remember wrapping them at all. She doesn’t remember much at all from the past few days.

 

Too much is circling through her head like a broken carousel. She’s gotten maybe six hours of sleep over the past three days. The more she dwells on her past with Peeta, the more she wonders just how stupid she could have been to miss all the signs. He’s been about as subtle as a sledgehammer with his hints over the years. They slowed down for a little while when he was first with Madge, and as the reality of her pregnancy began to show itself, and for a little while after Ava was born, but it never disappeared. Not once. No matter the situation, he’s always managed to make her feel… treasured.

 

But how emotionally-inept does a person need to be to not recognise what’s going on in their own minds?

 

She shakes her head. She could drive herself insane with this line of thought. But now that she’s come to the conclusion, all to consider now is what to do with this information? Would she be willing to potentially destroy over two decades of friendship on the rickety grounds of a ‘maybe’?

 

And what if she’s right and it’s never been a question of ‘maybe’, but ‘when’? What does she do then?

 

Can she afford not to find out?

 

Her breath catches in her throat as her front door opens and, instead of the usual over-excited squeals and babble of Ava rushing to tell Katniss all about her day, she’s met with silence.

 

Katniss rushes for the door, nearly tripping and dying more than once on the assorted debris left behind by a young child. As she reaches the foyer, she lets out a relieved breath at the sight of Ava draped over Peeta’s shoulder, fast asleep, with his arm wrapped securely around her. His other shoulder holds her cupcake-shaped backpack, Peeta’s gift when Ava first started kindy earlier that year.

 

He spies her watching them in the entryway and presses a finger to his grinning lips. She stares at him, wrapped up in another silly Christmas sweater — he’s got a whole wardrobe of them, she’s sure of it — and his knit hat pulled low over his ears. His nose is bright red, his eyes are shining brighter than any stupid bow she’s affixed to the gifts, and he’s smiling at her like he’s waited the whole day to see her, even though he saw her just that morning, and right then, she knows. She knows for absolute certain:

 

There’s no way she can afford not to find out.

 

“Hey,” he whispers. “She must have had a big day; she was fast asleep as soon as I strapped her in.”

 

“Oh.” Katniss steps forward and reaches out to smooth back Ava’s blonde curls, so like Prim’s at that age. “Probably for the best. I wrapped up all her presents as soon as I got back from work.”

 

“I can hang around until she wakes up in case she goes nuts, if you want?”

She smiles, shakes her head. “You know you don’t have to pick her up every day, don’t you? I get home in time to get her.”

 

He scoffs. “Yeah, I know. But I want to, Katniss. Anything to make things a little easier for you.”

 

She sighs, but knows better than to fight a war she’s sure to lose, even if it’s one she seems intent on starting every time he brings Ava home. “Fine. Go set her down in her room, then. I’ll make us some tea.”

 

“That sounds perfect.” With a final grin, he sets off down the narrow hallway to Ava’s bright purple room — the room he painted for her second birthday.

 

The motion of making tea is therapeutic, in a way. She loses herself for a few short, blissful seconds in the pouring and the dunking, adding a spoonful of sugar and a dash of milk to her own, and leaving Peeta’s plain. She sets the cups down on her small kitchen table, one facing the other, and takes a seat to wait.

 

“She’s out like a light,” Peeta says as he strides back into the kitchen moments later. He makes a beeline for the jar of cookies — made by him, of course — without looking back at her. “Kind of makes you wonder what sort of stuff they’ve got kids doing in kindy these days. Must be pretty crazy if — Katniss?” He glances to where she’s sitting, and frowns. “Katniss? Why are you sitting there?”

 

“Could you sit down for a minute, please?” she asks, willing her voice to stay even. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”


	3. Day 16: Traditions

Peeta keeps his eyes on hers as he pulls out the chair and sinks into it. “All right,” he says, though he sounds wary, on edge. She wishes she could reach over the table and take his hand in hers, to sooth his nerves like he does for her whenever she can’t do it herself. But she forces herself to stay still, her grip one good flex away from shattering the fine china of her teacup.

 

“What’s on your mind?”

 

“I…” She sets her cup down with a sharp, tinkling clatter. “Do you remember the other day, when I said I realised something?”

 

Peeta nods, takes a sip from his own cup, and sighs like the shoddily put-together brew is the best thing he’s ever tasted. “Yeah. You ran out of the room like it... like it scared you, or something.”

 

She lets out a laugh, and it sounds as brittle as her china. “Yeah, it kind of did.”

 

“Want to talk about it?”

 

“Not really. But I think I have to.”

 

“You don’t _have_ to do anything, Katniss.”

 

She lets out a shaky laugh. “I think I might this time.” She seizes her teacup and drains it, but finds no fortitude at the bottom. She should have topped it with whiskey. And maybe some brandy. And maybe — why not? — some of Uncle Haymitch’s favourite white liquor, at least three-quarters methylated spirits, she’s sure.

 

So instead, she takes a huge breath in, like she’s about to hold herself underwater, and focusses her gaze on the piece of mistletoe hanging above her kitchen entryway. The tacky piece of plastic makes her half-smile, half-cringe just thinking about all the times she witnessed her parents get ‘trapped’ under it when she was young. But she still hangs it every year, on auto-pilot, a strange tradition in her home its founders aren’t around to observe anymore.

 

Her heart thuds so loud in her chest that she’s certain Peeta can hear it. “What am I to you?”

 

He stares at her for a long, painful moment without saying a word. But like she did those few days ago, she forces herself to keep her eyes with his, to map out what she can see there so it can lead her to something wonderful.

 

His gaze breaks with hers and lands on a knot in her table. She swears she hears him whisper, _is this real_ under his breath. His shoulders slump, the sigh he lets out sounds defeated, and for an awful, unbroken second she’s positive she’s been reading him wrong this whole time.

 

“What are you to me?” he asks. When he looks up again, there’s enough warmth and light in his eyes to ignite her entire being, and his smile is different from all others he’s ever shown her, so full of a deep and fathomless tenderness that makes her gasp. “You’re everything, Katniss. You’re it for me. Since we met, you’ve been the beginning and the end, and all things in between.”

 

She trembles. Her mouth feels as though it’s been stuffed with cotton balls; why did she drink all her tea at once?

 

“Uh, wow,” she whispers. Of all the things he could have said, those words are the best, and the worst.

 

He chuckles, runs a hand over his face. He’s trembling, too, and the relief that shoots through her at the sight, at the confirmation that she’s not alone in this vast, uncharted stretch, bolsters her more than she can say.

 

That, and the sight of his sleeves pushed up around his elbows. That helps, too.

 

“Yeah. Wow.”

 

Still, she manages to stick her foot right through the moment. Classic Katniss. “But… but what about Madge? You were going to marry her, Peeta.”

 

His small smile falters. “Madge was… what I thought I needed.” He reaches across her table and seizes her hands in his. “I thought I was doing us both a favour by not… waiting for you anymore. But it was so, so unfair to Madge, to be such a wonderful, giving person in a relationship with someone who, try as he might, was never going to love her back the way she deserved.” He sighs again and goes on, staring back down at the table, though his thumb keeps up a steady pace, running along the back of her hand and drawing up a trail of goose-bumps. “I adore Ava, Katniss, with all of my heart, but the night you told me you were pregnant with her… it was one of the worst nights of my life.”

 

“The night you told me you were with Madge was one of the worst nights of my life, too.” Now that she’s said it out loud, the truth of the words threatens to shatter her. It was pure, undiluted heartbreak that followed her into that bar and hotel room, that fuelled every questionable decision she made that night.

 

His smile is a sad thing, tinged with a hope Katniss feels growing inside her, too. “No point dwelling on what might have been. What matters is here, and now.” He looks at her with an infuriating sort of calm. “So, I guess the question now is, what am I to you?”

 

She stares down at her table and scowls at it. “I’m not good with words,” she mutters. “Not like you.”

 

“Doesn’t matter.” When she looks up again, his small smile has given way to a full-wattage grin. “Just tell me, however you can.”

 

She opens and closes her mouth so many times she must look like a fish out of water, but Peeta watches her, gives gentle, encouraging nods to coax her words forth.

 

She blurts out, “You’re more than I thought you were.”

 

His brow furrows, but the brightness of his eyes doesn’t dim one bit. “What do you mean?”

 

“I thought you were my best friend.” Now that she’s started, she’s not sure she can stop. “Since we were kids, that’s what you’ve been. But somewhere down the line, it changed. _You_ changed. I don’t know where, or when, or even why, but at some point, everything shifted. You’re still my best friend, but you’re also something… more.”

 

He smirks at her, gentle and teasing all at once. “Not good with words, are you?”

 

She crosses her arms and stares at the mistletoe sprig in a useless attempt to calm her racing heart. She wonders for a moment how her parents met. She knows the basic story — that her father brought herbs to her mother’s family’s small (and much derided) naturopath clinic — but the details as it all became clearer, the racing heart, the burning cheeks, the fluttering in the stomach, the breathless anticipation… was it like this for them, too?

 

“I’m really not,” she says.

 

He shakes his head and laughs. “You have no idea, Katniss, the effect you have on me.”

 

She narrows her eyes and scowls at him. “What effect?”

 

He laughs again. “It’s nothing specific, Katniss. It’s just the way you make me feel. The way you’ve always made me feel just by… being yourself.”

 

“And you… like that?” She’s not sure why she feels the need to ask, not when his entire body seems to be speaking for him. He smiles at her like she’s the sun, moon, and stars, brought down from the sky and packaged just for him, and brings her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

 

“I love it, Katniss. I love _you_. I always have.”

 

They watch each other across the table, neither making a move. Katniss feels the words bubbling up in her throat, but they catch and burst there until she tries again. And again and again. She’s so close to getting them out, but Peeta silences her with another smile.

 

“It’s newer for you, Katniss. You don’t have to say it back.”

 

“But I _do_ , Peeta. So much.”

 

He draws the hand he’s still holding to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “I know you do. That’s why you don’t have to say it.”

 

The relief surging through her is palpable, warm and cool at the same time. “So, what do we do now?”

 

“Now,” he drops her hand, stands, stretches his arms high overhead, and saunters off into her kitchen, “we wait for Ava to wake up, and make dinner. I saw you’ve got everything to make a lamb stew?”                              

 

As she watches him zoom about her fridge and cupboards, plucking out ingredients and lining them on her counter, the sight of it is so warm and familiar that it’s like their little talk never happened.

 

But when he glances up and winks at her, she can feel the shift that’s rocked the very core of their friendship.

 

She just hopes it’s been rocked for the better.


	4. Day 20: Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vastly shorter chapter this time; I'm sure you can guess where it's going ;) Enjoy!

Katniss smiles as she listens to Ava’s joyous peals of laughter alongside Peeta’s deeper chuckle. She resists the urge to peek her head around the corner to spy on what they’re up to; Ava would never forgive her if she spied on them wrapping Mummy’s presents.

 

She doesn’t mind being exiled, though. The least she can do for Peeta after he cooked her favourite lamb stew is do the dishes. That, and the peaceful routine of wash, rinse, stack, repeat is allowing her plenty of time to dwell on their conversation earlier that evening.

 

She doesn’t think she could wipe the smile off her face if she tried. All through dinner, she and Peeta shared dopey grins across the table when Ava wasn’t watching, traded deliberate touches when passing condiments across her small table that they could have just as easily reached themselves. Katniss dips her hands beneath the scalding sink water again, just to make sure she hasn’t dreamed the whole evening up, and relishes the sting of reality. She never knew that she could be so incredibly lucky. She could live a thousand lifetimes, and not even come close to deserving someone as wonderful, as selfless, as loving as Peeta.

 

But if he’s deemed her worthy, she’s going to grab on with both hands and never let go.

 

Paper tears in the other room, and Ava’s laughter peters out into a high-pitched squeal.

 

“Everything all right in there?” Katniss calls out.

 

“We’re fine,” Peeta says, and he sounds amused. “Ava’s just had a little mishap with the paper.”

 

Katniss grins to herself. “I thought you were helping her.”

 

Peeta chuckles. “I thought so, too. But she’s just like her mother: stubborn to the end.”

 

Katniss sets a clean plate on the rack and curls her head around the doorway into the living room. Peeta watches on, his lips curled into a grin, as Ava wrestles with a pair of children’s scissors and a sheet of paper far too big for the blank box she’s wrapping. Her little tongue peeks out between her lips as she works, a gesture she could have only learned from Peeta.

 

Katniss pulls back before they can catch her spying and brushes her head against the sprig of mistletoe hanging from the top of the doorway. She gives it far more consideration now than she’s ever given it, and where she might have dismissed such frivolous thoughts and silly, childish daydreams, they seem to hold far more weight now than they ever did.

 

She’s kissed Peeta once before — a long time ago, and not in the way she’s thinking of now, but it was still a kiss. One of her favourite kisses, if she were tallying them. But they’ve come a long way since then, and Katniss can’t help but wonder what else might have changed.

 

When she realises she’s been standing there _wondering_ for the past five minutes, she knows mere imaginings, no matter how nice, won’t be enough to satisfy her anymore.

 

“Peeta?” she calls into the next room. She’s proud of herself for keeping the waver out of her voice. “Can you come in here for a moment?”

 

She hears the rip of sticky tape, then: “Yeah, sure. Just give me a sec.”

 

The rustle of his movements is like white noise in her ears. All she can hear is the pulse and rush of blood in her veins, then his heavy footfalls as he lumbers through the doorway and collides with her.

 

They’re toe to toe, chest to chest, sharing their breaths between them. What was she trying to do again?

 

Peeta clears his throat. “Hey,” he whispers. “What did you ne —”

 

Her lips crash onto his before he can make another word. His surprise lasts a nanosecond that feels like a lifetime before he’s wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her against him, and returning the kiss as eagerly as she gave it. _This_ , she thinks as she melds herself to his hard and soft planes. This is exactly what she’s wanted all these years.

 

They pull apart far too soon, breathless and stupid with happiness. Peeta’s lips are chapped and cherry-red — the same as hers, she thinks — and his eyes are dark, hungry, overjoyed, but there’s a question there, too.

 

Katniss points to the ceiling. “Mistletoe,” she whispers.

 

He glances up, then smiles down at her and brushes an errant strand of hair back behind her ear. “So there is.”

 

He leans in and kisses her again, a gentler, sweeter thing this time. Katniss feels her heart flutter as she reaches up and holds his cheeks in her damp hands to keep him there as long as possible.

 

“Peeta!” Ava cries out in a commanding tone Katniss knows she inherited from her. Peeta’s lips still against hers, and they both let out a warm chuckle. “I need help now.”

 

“I’ll be right there, vanilla bean.” Peeta rests his forehead against hers, and lets out a shaky, disbelieving laugh.

 

“But not Mummy! She’s not allowed.”

 

He chuckles again. “I’ll let her know, sweetheart.”

 

Katniss grins, kisses him again. Now that she’s done it once, she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to stop. “So, I’m still exiled?”

 

Peeta nods, runs his thumbs over her cheekbones. “I’m afraid so. She’s so proud of her present, Katniss. I’m pretty proud of it, too.”

 

“I look forward to seeing it, then.”

 

“I’ve got to get back to her,” he mutters with another quick flurry of kisses, like he can’t pull away, either. “But we’re not done yet.”

 

“No.” Katniss smirks as he tugs himself away. “We’re only just beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when the final chapter for this story will be ready. I'm currently writing a proposal for Honours study this year, and I really want to get it done. It's due Wednesday, so once that's done, submitted and out of the way, I can get back to writing for fun again.
> 
> I'm ally147writes on Tumblr if anyone wants to chat :)


	5. Day 25: 'Christmas Day'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone who has been waiting (waiting... waiting) for this last update. I truly didn't mean to take so long getting it done. In any case, it's here now! I hope this last installment was worth the wait.
> 
> Unbeta'd, as per usual. If there's any glaring errors... please excuse them...

_Katniss lets a breath that rattles deep in her chest and tucks the phone between her shoulder and her ear. She winces with the motion; every muscle in her body seems to be working against her. She’s never been so bone-deep tired in all her life._

_“Do you think you might be able to come over Christmas day?”_

_The weak, defeated tone of her voice makes her cringe; she’s never been so needy before, least of all with Peeta. She could say that caring for a two-month old baby by yourself isn’t all that conducive to a relaxed, confident atmosphere, but the sad reality is that she just misses her best friend: a best friend she hasn’t seen since he helped bring Ava home._

_He sighs; she can almost hear him rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I don’t know, Kat. I probably won’t be able to come until after the new year. Madge wants to head down to the country, visit her sister and her kids for a few days.”_

_“Oh.” She’s not sure what else there is to say. She peeks into her room, where Ava’s fast asleep in her crib after fussing for hours. She lets out a silent sigh and presses her forehead against the cold steel of the doorframe. “Well, have a nice trip.”_

_“Don’t be like that, Kat.” He sounds just as defeated as her. “I’ll be back in a week or so. I can hang out with you and Ava as much as we want then.”_

_Katniss bites her tongue. It won’t matter when he and Madge get back; she still won’t see him. Peeta assured her that Madge wasn’t upset that he stayed at the hospital with her while she gave birth, but the past two months tells Katniss something different. Hell, after the endless parade of vacations out to the ocean, trips to the next town over, or endless days and nights in Madge’s bedroom that Madge has dangled in front of her with a sly, knowing grin, Katniss considers herself lucky that Peeta’s got a free minute to waste on her at all._

_“It doesn’t matter,” she says, shrugging even though no one can see her. “I had you for years before Madge came along.”_

_“I was never complaining, Katniss.”_

_She smiles. “Neither was I.”_

_Another voice pipes through; soft, feminine and unmistakeably angry. Madge’s words are muffled, but Peeta’s aren’t. Katniss’ cheeks flame as she listens on._

_“It’s Katniss…”_

_“She just wanted to know if… yeah, I told her we’d be gone…”_

_“She’s my best friend, Madge…”_

_There’s a harsh yell that Katniss is grateful not to have understood. Peeta’s voice takes a hard edge, a sound she’s never heard before. “There’s absolutely no need to be so cruel, Madge. That’s my best friend you’re talking about…”_

_She can’t listen anymore. Katniss murmurs a soft, “Goodbye,” that she doesn’t think he hears, then hangs up._

_Her tiny house is silent now, save for the soft whisper of snow falling beyond her window. Katniss drops the phone on her couch, falls there beside it, and cradles her head in her hands. The minutes which pass her by are too many to count, but by the time she looks up again, it’s black as pitch beyond the window, and Ava’s snuffling about in her crib._

_Katniss sighs and hauls herself to her feet, muscles protesting all over again. Ava’s snuffles turn to cries turn to screams for her mother’s breast. Katniss plucks her daughter from her blankets and sits at the edge of her bed, unclipping the strap on her bra and pulling Ava close to feed. The ease with which Ava does this, and her voracity, too, is something Katniss can feel proud of. Lost and adrift in the sea of sea of single-parenthood, this is something she can do on her own._

_So if Peeta Mellark can’t stand up for himself long enough to tell his stuck-up bitch of a girlfriend to piss off for five minutes, whatever. She’s just fine without him._

**XXX**

Katniss wakes Christmas morning well before the sun. Her room is still dark, cold above the covers from the breeze pouring in through her open window, but peaceful, too. She closes her eyes again, smiles, and burrows deeper into the warm body curled up next to her; the quiet is blissful, wonderful.

 

This Christmas morning is so stunningly different to any she’s experienced in recent memory, but in the very best way.

 

Peeta stirs behind her, and Katniss bites her lip to hold back a smile. He’s slept by her side almost every night since their kiss the week before. They haven’t done anything, not yet, but it’s nearing. They wake up every morning twisted together, with no clear end or beginning to either of them. And with Peeta’s hardness pressed against her thigh causing no more awkwardness than a shy smile between them, she feels them creeping ever closer to that final barrier between them.

 

She rolls over and faces him, stretches up and drops a warm, sleepy kiss to his lips. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” he returns, his voice thick and hoarse with sleep. “Merry Christmas, Katniss.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Peeta.”

 

“Ava not up yet?”

 

“She’ll sleep a little longer yet. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

 

He sighs and drags her back in close, presses a line of gentle kisses along her hairline. “This is nice,” he says, the same thing he’s said every other morning they’ve woken up together.

 

She hums in agreement, kisses his neck. She’s insatiable now; how she ever went so long without knowing his taste, his scent, how warm and soft he is in the mornings, she has no idea. It seems the same for him, too; his hands are working overtime taking in her skin and subtle curves, memorising every last inch of her like he’s going to be tested on it afterwards.

 

She’s more than willing to help him study.

 

“What’s the time, anyway?”

 

She glances over his shoulder, to the clock on the bedside table. “Just gone six.”

 

He grins; his teeth glint in the dark. “A sleep in.”

 

“For you, maybe, baker boy.”              

 

He chuckles and tugs her close, so she’s all but surrounded by him. “I love the holidays.”

 

While sleeping with Peeta has become a common occurrence, between his hellish four o’clock wake-ups, and her responsibilities as a working mother, it’s a rare luxury — for either of them — that they can wake up together, lie in bed and just while away the hours. She sighs in his arms and kisses his chest.

 

“I think I love them a little bit, too.”

 

He’s quiet for a beat, then: “I don’t think I ever apologised for the ones I missed.” He clears his throat, and it rumbles loud in his chest. “When I was… you know, with Madge.”

 

She shakes her head. “And I’d never ask you to. You’re here now.”

 

“Yeah, but —” She cuts him off with another kiss.

 

“Peeta, I won’t pretend that I liked Madge, or that her complete control over you was charming, or that the way she used to dangle you over me like some treat I had to earn was somehow endearing, but it doesn’t matter anymore. She’s gone, and you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

 

He sighs and pushes a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I love you.”

 

She leans into his touch. “I love you, too.”

 

His calloused fingertips sweep down over her brow, her cheekbone, her nose and over her lips. There’s a reverence to the way he looks at her that seems only magnified in the shadows of the cold, grey dawn, like he’s seeing her as something far greater than she is, something more than just Katniss Everdeen, single mother with a dead-end job. It should scare her, the gravity of his feelings, but she thinks she might just have him matched on that front.

 

“I never thought I’d get to hear you mean it like that.”

 

“I’ve told you I love you plenty of times before,” she retorts, with a little more heat than she intends.

 

Peeta smiles at her scowl. “Not like _that_ , you haven’t.”

 

The vehemence that rises in her throat astounds her, because maybe _that_ is exactly how she always meant it, even when she didn’t realise it.

 

She moves to say something else — exactly what, she has no clue — but Peeta’s lips cut her words off before she can start.

 

His kiss is as slow, as long, as soft, and as encompassing as a warm blanket she’d be content to wrap herself in forever. But forever’s impossible, she tells herself as her lips part and welcome him further, morning breath and all, so she’ll take the morning and let it be enough.

 

Until the night falls again, anyway.

 

A door further down the hall opens, then slams shut. Slap after slap of tiny feet on the wooden floor echo in the tiny house alongside high-pitched proclamations of, “Mummy! Uncle Peeta! Christmas! _Christmas_!”

 

Katniss pulls her lips away with a soft, damp smack, and falls back against her pillow. She sighs. Peeta just laughs.

 

“Christmas day with a three-year old,” she says. “You ready?”

 

He grips her hand beneath the covers and squeezes. “With you? I’m ready for anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience with this little story (ending well after the festive season...) I hope it, if nothing else, made you smile :)
> 
> I'm ally147writes on Tumblr if anyone wants to chat!


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